


Stupid States of Mind

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, General emo-ness, M/M, Smoking, badboy!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> In which, Dan is a smoking stranger and Phil really likes the rain.</p><p>-</p><p>“Want to come over to mine?” Phil asks and he sees Dan jump, his muscles tightening.</p><p>“You don’t know me,” Dan murmurs, twisting the cigarette between his long fingers and Phil can’t look away.</p><p>“I want to.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid States of Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Procrastinationpowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procrastinationpowers/gifts).



> i think this might be the most emo piece of shit i’ve ever written and i’m completely fine with that. i did it for [procrastinationpowers](http://procrastinationpowers.tumblr.com) bc it was her birthday 6 days ago and i love her a lot
> 
> also this is based on ptv’s new song [texas is forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0enTUnwR_Q&)? listen to it if you haven’t already, it’s gorgeous and emo and pretentious and perfect and i lov e it

Phil needed to get out. He needed to get away from his roommate and the sounds of him getting it on with his girlfriend, needed to get away from the assignment he can’t seem to finish, needed to get away from the hideous grandpa clock ticking in the corner of their apartment, reminding him that time he spends on anything is irrelevant and so is he.

He regrets the decision to take not take a coat and grab a jacket instead. It’s March and it’s way too cold for this time of year. March is the time for spring and flowers, Phil thinks to himself, not for snowflakes and blue fingers.

It’s some kind of twisted metaphor, it must be. He thinks back to his hopes and expectations for uni and where he is right now and he can feel himself start to frown.

The only sounds around him are from occasional late-night runners and the cabs rushing to and from the airport. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself in an effort to get rid of the numbness in his arms.

The streetlights flicker as he turns a corner, illuminating the abandoned street. His fingers tremble against his palms and he looks up, stars shining bright. If he squints, he can make out the belt of Orion.

“What are you doing out so late?”

Phil jumps, the jacket cutting off the circulation in his arms for a second as he pulls it tighter in reflex. There’s a guy leaning against a brick wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watches Phil from afar.

He shifts under the scrutiny, feeling the guy’s eyes track his every move. He’s tempted to walk forward, but he doesn’t, the damp fabric of his Conserve squeaking as he clenches his toes in an effort to stay still.

“Walking,” he says, his voice quieter than he’d intended it to be. He really isn’t the mood for talking.

The guy lifts an eyebrow, pushing off the wall and slowly walking towards Phil. It’s smooth, casual and it sends a chill down Phil’s spine. The guy looks tired and intrigued, and exactly like the kind of person your parents want you to stay away from.

“I can see that. Why?”

Phil freezes, biting his lip. The guy just stares at him, runs his fingers through the curly strands of his hair and patiently waits for an answer. His blank gaze infuriates Phil, anger bubbling up inside him as the guy just stands there, like Phil isn’t trembling.

“None of your business,” he bites out and walks away from the guy, a shaky feeling in his limbs.

 

* * * * *

 

There’s something strangely poetic about the rain, Phil thinks as he watches it. He’s sitting inside, drinking hot cocoa, staring wistfully outside as he buries himself in his sweater. He knows he shouldn’t go outside, shouldn’t even be considering it, but before he knows it he’s pulling on his coat.

The first time Matthew, his roommate, noticed his fascination with rain he’d just shook his head and walked away, probably chalked it up as one of those weird things Phil does, which is honestly pretty true.

It’s quiet outside, people fleeing away from rain instead of walking into it, but Phil only has eyes for the drops splattering on the pavement, disappearing like they were never there.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” someone behind him asks. Phil startles and flinches away from the person standing under the overhang. The leather jacket seems familiar, and he watches as the guy smiles sadly at him, rain dripping from his curls into his eyes.

“It is,” Phil says, looking back to the droplets, holding out his hand to catch a few, trying to prolong their existence, their significance. The guy huffs out a breath of laughter, probably because of Phil’s pathetic attempt at dragging out the inevitable.

He raises his eyebrow when Phil sneezes, the drops falling through his fingers and onto the pavement, and says, “Want to come stand with me over there?”

Phil looks at him for a second, and the guy stares back, leaning against the wall, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. He looks every inch the kind of person you should avoid, but Phil finds himself walking forward, half-running to close the distance between them.

“I’m Dan,” the guy says as he grabs a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, holding one up for Phil. Phil just shakes his head and watches the guy light it, smoke curling between them.

“Phil,” Phil murmurs when the silence between them stretches into something warm and comfortable. “My name’s Phil.”

The guy smiles slyly, eyes lighting up in tandem with the cigarette dangling from his lips and he stretches languidly. “Well Phil, it’s been a pleasure.”

Phil watches him walk away, the rain seemingly parting around him.

 

* * * * *

 

“Could you get the groceries?” Matthew asks him when he’s lying on his bed, playing Pokémon. He hums back, something positive that’s reflected in Matthew’s, “Thanks man!” that follows.

He puts down the gameboy and stares at the ceiling, the white plaster smiling down, daring him to do something about it. Matthew’s probably going to his girlfriend, too preoccupied with her and studying to even notice Phil’s complete lack of _anything_ the past few weeks.

Matthew’s left some money on the counter, and Phil grabs it, shoves it in his pockets and walks out. It’s cloudy, the air clammy and it makes him feel out of his element, like something is watching his every move.

Walking into Tesco brings a nice change of pace, people bustling around as they try to find their next dinner or the last pot of jam that’s hidden on the top shelf, such a contrast to the outside everyone seems to want to avoid so badly, preferring to stay hidden in their houses with a cup of tea and an iPad.

The air smells fresh and of conservatives, an artificial scent that should bother him but doesn’t. He walks over to the racks of bread and grabs one, putting it into the basket around his arm when he notices the person reaching into one of the freezers.

It’s Dan, curls flying everywhere as he wipes some frost off his leather jacket. A little girl runs up to him and looks up at him with wide eyes, and Phil watches as Dan crouches down, a soft expression on his face as he asks her where her mummy is.

The girl pouts, her lip trembling as she says, “I don’t know.”

He starts to walk over when the girl starts crying and Dan pulls her into a hug, patting her back and whispering soft endearments and Phil’s heart squeezes.

“Everything okay?” he asks and Dan freezes, the girl still clinging to him as he stands up. He regards Phil with harsh eyes and Phil blushes, shifts like he’s done something wrong.

“She lost her mum,” Dan says and the girl turns her head and looks at Phil with teary eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Phil murmurs as he boops her nose. “We’ll find her.”

He doesn’t miss the way Dan’s eyes soften when he says that.

 

* * * * *

 

“Thanks for helping me, back there. You didn’t have to,” Dan says as they sit side by side on the pavement, watching the grey clouds roll by. Phil shrugs, and shifts, lessening the pressure on his hands.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispers, his fingers brushing against Dan’s. He watches Dan grab a cigarette out of the corner of his eye, and he swears Dan’s cheeks are red.

“Want to come over to mine?” Phil asks and he sees Dan jump, his muscles tightening.

“You don’t know me,” Dan murmurs, twisting the cigarette between his long fingers and Phil can’t look away.

“I want to.”

 

* * * * *

 

Dan looks out of place in Phil’s apartment, the difference between the black of his jacket and the white plaster stark and uncomfortable. Phil sees him shift his weight, bouncing on the balls of his feet and he can’t help but stare a little longer, astounded that this is the first time he’s ever seen Dan look uneasy, staying in the doorway as Phil walks to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” Phil shouts and watches Dan walk around the corner, pulling off his leather jacket and throwing it across a chair with an apprehensive grace, something that makes Phil look away. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to stop watching Dan if he doesn’t.

“No, thanks.” 

Phil raises an eyebrow, but pours himself a glass of water as Dan walks around the apartment, fingers skimming over tabletops and old pictures, leaving trails through the dust. There’s something carefully fragile about his appearance, about the way he holds himself here, so different from when he’s outside.

The harsh edge of the kitchen counter digs into his back, a tether to the real world, making sure he doesn’t drift away as he watches Dan’s delicate fingers fiddle with a pen.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” Dan asks after a while, when Phil’s already finished drinking and the dust has resettled, a tiny coating over the clean wood. It’s not really a question Phil wants to answer, he doesn’t want to think about it. He’s usually so careful in his decisions, scared to make mistake, and now he’s staring at a cigarette-smoking stranger with sparkling eyes in his living room.

“You looked like you could use some company.”

It’s not a lie, not really anyway, but his voice comes out in a whisper, almost breakable like he hasn’t felt in years, since Sarah whispered the words, “I’m breaking up with you.”

A dark look crosses Dan’s face, one that makes his brows furrow and Phil’s stomach shake. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but Dan grabs his leather jacket and spits, “I don’t need your fucking pity,” and before Phil knows it, Dan’s nothing more but a slammed door and a sinking feeling in his chest.

 

* * * * *

 

It’s almost 11pm when Matthew convinces him to get his shit together. He shivers: it’s dark and way too fucking cold to be outside, but here he is, scouring the streets in an effort to find Dan. It reminds him strangely of the night they first met and he almost laughs at the irony of it, chasing after the guy who he ran away from all those weeks ago.

The wind bites at his skin, tries to thaw away at him, and it almost feels like penance for something he didn’t know he did wrong. It’s ridiculously unfair yet he deserves it, and he digs his nails into his palms.

He runs into the street they met, the street lights still flickering. There’s a guy in a corner, the bright fulgurating light shining off a leather jacket and Phil resists the urge to scream Dan’s name, to check if it’s really him, because he needs to know, he needs to _apologise_.

“Dan,” he says, almost whispers when he gets there, voice uncertain and trembling with nerves and something more, something he doesn’t want to think about yet. “Dan, is that you?”

Dan laughs, a soft and broken sound as he throws his head back. Phil wants to reach out and touch him, wipe away the harsh lines on his face, but he can’t, because it’s not his place.

“Of course you’d-” Dan slurs as he turns around to face Phil, finger waving accusingly at him, “you’d come and find me.”

The bottle of whiskey clings against the bricks of the wall as Dan waves his hands around carelessly before gulping down what’s left. He looks so different, so open, like he grabbed a knife and spilled his guts for all to see, to bear himself to the world and Phil.

“Dan, you’re drunk,” Phil whispers, approaching Dan carefully, and he flinches when Dan lashes out, arms flailing outwards. “Just let me-”

“No!” Dan shouts, pushing away from Phil, stumbling on his feet. “I’m not letting you do anything!”

“Dan, please.”

Phil feels exhausted, feels guilty and ashamed, yet he doesn’t even know what he did wrong, but Dan looks so sad and tired of everything, that he can’t help but beg. He wants to take care of Dan, wants to make sure he’s okay, wants him to-

“I don’t-” Dan says, his voice cracking as he wipes across his face with the sleeve of his jacket and Phil rushes forward just in time to catch him. “Please don’t.”

Dan buries his face into Phil’s shoulder, his hands fisted in Phil’s coat as he pulls him in tighter, sobs making his entire body shiver. Phil pulls Dan tighter against him, until he can’t breathe anymore, and he never wants to let him go.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs as he cards his fingers through Dan’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

* * * * *

 

Dan’s leaning against him as he opens the door to Dan’s apartment, probably half-asleep. He’d protested, refused to give Phil his keys until he was too weak to hold on any longer.

Phil almost trips as he opens the door, bottles of whiskey lining the floor like they’re tiles, like they belong there, and Dan shifts in discomfort as Phil stumbles through the tiny apartment.

The bedroom is even smaller, the only furniture a bed and a cupboard, barely big enough to put three books in and it makes Phil unable to breathe, because how is Dan even able to live like this, buried between four walls and alcohol.

“Thank you,” Dan murmurs as Phil lies him down on the bed. He turns his head into a pillow, snoring softly and Phil can’t resist the urge to stay and look just a little longer, to watch Dan when he isn’t guarded, when there are no worry lines on his face and his hair isn’t immaculately styled or artfully ruined.

When he looks like a twenty year old, and not like a man.

 

* * * * *

 

The following days drift by with Phil in and out of existence, fleeting moments made up of glancing at a clock during lectures and watching shitty TV with Matthew and his girlfriend fucking in his bedroom, providing background noise that Phil’s learned to tune out over the course of a few months.

The grandpa clock keeps ticking, a steady but unnecessary reminder that time keeps going while Phil stands still. It makes him furious, makes him want to smash something to pieces, but he can’t.

He’s just eating cereal and reminiscing about what a fucking mess he’s become when there’s a knock on the door. He scratches at his stomach before walking through the hallway, shouting “I’m coming!” when the person knocks again.

“Hey,” Dan says, looking him in the eye after Phil’s opened the door and he feels petrified, frozen in place underneath those brown eyes.

“Hi,” he manages to choke out, gripping the doorframe so hard his knuckles turn white. He sees Dan’s eyes flit over them before settling on his face.

“Sorry for freaking out on you.”

That makes Phil stop, makes everything stop. He hadn’t expected to see Dan again, much less hear an apology. Dan looks down at his shoes, fingers grabbing a cigarette from his pockets to light it. The click of a lighter is becoming more and more familiar and Phil’s not sure if he minds.

“It’s okay,” he says, watching the cigarette dangle between Dan’s lips. “Want to try again after you’ve finished that?”

Dan freezes, hand halfway to his cigarette as he raises an eyebrow at Phil and Phil can feel himself start to blush, cheeks heating up as the embarrassment spreads. He probably overstepped Dan’s boundaries again, god he’s such an idiot.

Dan carefully nods, taking the cigarette between his fingers and blowing the smoke, and Phil watches it fly away, disappear like it hadn’t ever been there.

The smell of smoke is the only thing that reminds him it was.

 

* * * * *

 

They’re sitting together on the sofa, watching Bear Grylls attempt to survive the wilderness when Matthew comes stumbling out of his bedroom with his girlfriend, both of their cheeks flushed and huge grins on their faces. Matthew winks at Phil as he sees Dan sip from his beer and Phil blushes and flips him off behind Dan’s back.

“I can’t fucking believe this guy,” Dan says, waving animatedly at the TV as he turns to look at Phil. “This is a load of bullshit. There’s no way it’s real.”

Phil shrugs, his shoulder brushing against Dan’s. “At least it’s entertaining to watch.”

Dan huffs and turns back, his eyes sparking as he watches Bear try to find shelter and Phil can’t help but smile at the quiet, happy look on his face.

 

* * * * *

 

“So,” Matthew starts after Dan’s gone. “That’s the guy who’s had you look all mushy.” 

Phil glares at him, slumping into the sofa. Matthew’s a filthy traitor and he never should’ve said a word to him about Dan.

“Don’t be like that. I might be straight, but I can tell he’s just your type.”

Phil groans and grabs a cushion, throwing it at Matthew who deflects it easily with a smirk. Phil wants to punch that stupid smile off his face, but instead he just buries himself into the sofa, wishing to just sink into it and disappear for a little while, at least until Matthew decided to go visit his girlfriend again.

“I guess you’re not getting any take-out then,” Matthew says after Phil’s ignored him for awhile and he instantly shoots up, sending Matthew a dark look.

“You’re evil,” Phil mutters as Matthew hands him some tissues and Matthew just laughs.

 

* * * * *

 

“Oh come on, there’s no way that’s fair!” Dan shouts as he dies for the twentieth time on the same part, controller clutched tightly in his hand, hair sticking up as he pouts.

Phil throws his head back in laughter, and suddenly Dan’s looking at him like Phil took his breath away. Phil stills, cheeks flushing with heat and Dan fists a hand in Phil shirt and kisses him.

Dan’s lips feel surprisingly soft against his, gentle in his movement as his hands flit over Phil’s face like he can’t believe Phil’s there. Phil pulls Dan against him, slinging his arms over Dan’s shoulders when Dan freezes and pulls back, eyes wide.  

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, and then he’s gone.

 

* * * * *

 

Dan comes running back to his apartment thirty minutes later, out of breath and looking ruined, his leather jacket rumpled and hair sticking up like he ran his fingers through it. Phil stares at him, coat pulled on one arm and hanging limply halfway up the other.

“Dan, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Dan’s shaking as he presses forward and Phil follows him into the living room without thinking, trailing after him even though it’s his own apartment and Dan doesn’t even live there. Dan doesn’t look at Phil as he sits down on the sofa, doesn’t look at him as Phil sits down next to him.

“I just-” Dan stops, bites his lip like he’s thinking over his words and it makes the bottom of Phil’s stomach drop. “I need to tell you something.”

Phil hums, squeezes Dan’s shoulder in a way he hopes radiates encouragement, but he isn’t sure. He can feel his own fingers trembling, scared to hear what Dan will say, scared that he’s going to reject Phil, tell him it was all a mistake.

“I ran away.” 

It’s sudden, not something Phil had expected Dan to say, and he waits patiently for Dan to continue even though his heart’s pounding. Dan staring at his fingers, threading them together as his knee bounces up and down, a nervous habit that makes him look terribly breakable.

“I ran away when I turned seventeen. My parents didn’t exactly approve of me being pansexual, I guess.”

His hands curl into fists and Phil brushes his fingers over Dan’s, prying them apart and linking them together in a silent promise. Dan looks up at him with tears in his eyes, shining like raindrops and Phil smiles sadly at him, wipes them away with his thumb. Dan’s fingers squeeze his.

“That’s okay,” Phil whispers. “It doesn’t change my opinion of you.”

Dan throws his head back, a broken, harsh laugh escaping his throat.

“It should, it really should,” Dan says, choking down sobs. “I was a teenager, a fucking stupid kid and I ran away and drowned myself in drugs and alcohol and now I can’t stop. I ruined my own life.”

Phil pulls him onto his lap, and puts his hands on Dan’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing away the tears. Dan slumps against him, giving himself over to Phil and it makes Phil ache for him in a way he hasn’t before.

“I’m in love with you,” he murmurs and instantly wishes he could take it back. He means it, but he hadn’t meant to say it and now Dan’s still against him, eerily so.

Dan slowly pulls back, his gaze flitting between Phil’s eyes, looking if he’s serious and Phil makes himself look back, because this is what Dan deserves, this is what he needs, what they both need. He swallows as Dan looks at his lips, then back up again like he’s asking permission and Phil nods, almost imperceptibly, before Dan leans down and kisses him.

Phil leans back and lets himself be devoured. He was long gone anyway.

 

* * * * *

 

Dan’s lying on his sheets, arm pillowing his head as he stares up at the white ceiling and Phil can’t look away from him. The light of the moon shines through his window, the only source of light and it makes Dan look soft around the edges, such a stark contrast between the leather jackets and cigarettes and whiskey bottles littering the floor of Dan’s apartment.

Something in Phil’s chest squeezes, tighter and tighter until he can’t breathe. Dan turns his head and smiles at Phil, his eyes soft and curls bouncing on his forehead as he shifts and Phil wants to keep him here forever.

“You okay?” Dan asks him, voice timid, quiet, like he’s afraid of ruining the tranquil silence. Phil nods, swallowing as he looks at Dan’s lips. They curl up into a smirk, the same one he always does and before Phil knows it they’re kissing again, Dan’s lips moving against his, tentative. It’s different this time, different as Phil ghosts his fingers over Dan’s sides and different as Dan’s hands clench and unclench in Phil’s hair.

Dan pulls away, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against Phil’s, his eyelids closed and all Phil can do is stare. Stare at the freckles dotting Dan’s cheeks, stare at Dan’s lashes, stare at the dark shadows they cast against his moonlit cheeks.

Phil brushes his hands over Dan’s ribs, over where his skin is the most fragile and he can feel Dan’s ribs move as he breathes. Dan opens his eyes, lit like stars in the night sky and Phil feels something in his chest unfurl, something that makes him pull Dan down on top of him and hug him until Dan’s complaining he can’t breathe.

“Let me go,” Dan huffs out.

Phil laughs and kisses the top of Dan’s head, whispering, “Never,” into the strands of hair, Dan’s cheeks heating up against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you thought? i personally think this is the most over-dramatic thing i’ve ever written but hey, maybe you liked it?
> 
>  
> 
> [come hang out w me on tumblr!](http://demisexualhowell.tumblr.com)


End file.
